L'impératrice Douairière
by soldier against the numbers
Summary: AU. The Wish-Granting Shop's prices are not always (and sometimes never) orthodox ones. Post-movie.


**Summary:** AU. The Wish-Granting Shop's prices are not always (and sometimes never) orthodox ones.

**Note:** I always fuck shit up. And I believe I have fucked up both Blood AUs. On the note of Blood AUs, OMG BLOOD+ MANGA FINGERS. SO COOL.

**Note:** Anyone trying to pelt me with logics will be ignored. This is the Blood-C universe, OK? Not everything will be held constant.

**Note:** Karl Fei-Ong and Solomon Goldsmith had shit lives? NOT ACCEPTABLE.

**Note:** I'M IN LIMBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE GEEEEEEEEEEEET OUUUUUUUUUUT

**Note:** I LOVE GOD EATER BURST. SO MUCH. YES I DO.

**Note:** I'LL REGRET THIS LATER.

**Note:** I think this took me two months.

* * *

**L'impératrice Douairière**

_(Lit. Empress Dowager)_

She remembered.

The old ladies needing to cross the street safely though there were never any cars. The stray animals feeding from the dumpsters. The quick runs to school before the bell rang. The shrine that never had a god. Mother-that-wasn't-real-mother.

Names and faces and places.

Her lips felt cold.

The world was cold.

Fumito was dead on the ground.

Saya had won.

She felt even colder.

"You should have stayed away from me, Saya... Now you turned it into a punishment..."

He crumbled, like a body burnt into a pile of ashes. White. White as the angel he claimed to be. White ashes whipped around her face. It kissed her, gently, lovingly. Like he did. Like he had.

Fumito was lost to the wind.

She remembered soft cubes of Old Ones blood. She remembered drugs in her coffee. She remembered cavity-filled smiles and bright days and sleepy towns.

She remembered darkest night and severed flesh and blood on her face. She remebered death. She remembered drinking monster's blood.

She remembered cavity-filled smiles giving way to broken porcelain masks. To screams and pain and fear given form. She remembered the dog's words and the bullet in her face and the road that led her from the stage.

She remembers a smiling girl in a field of green. She remembers a blood-drenched woman in a wasteland.

The world was cold and lonely.

-C

"Okamura here. There has been some kind of an explosion at the Tokyo Bay Coastal Breakwater Landfill, most likely a secret facility. For what, or whom, the cause is unknown, but there are rumors that it belongs to Tower, yet another shady organization." The freelance reporter muttered something about everything being linked to shady organizations these days. "In any case, barely anything survived. The media has been kept successfully at bay, only vehicles with clearance are allowed in. In a few days the place won't even look like it'd been through a gas explosion, as the authorities insist. There have been no survivors at this time.

"And there probably never will be."

-C

It was almost morning.

She had to hurry.

The city streets were deserted after the commotion at Tower's ruined headquarters. No doubt those who were wide awake were at whatever was left of their little "stage". And considering how much of a mess she had made back there, she figured that almost all of Tokyo was wide awake.

She had to hurry.

The air was cold. Her clothes were torn up, but that was of no consequence to her. She could survive for a whole year on nothing but a school uniform and a coat picked up from god-knows-where, a weak sword, and sheer force of will. She could survive for a few more minutes.

She stopped at the squat yet elegant-looking structure, fenced by wooden boards and opening at one spot.

This was the only place she could come back to. The only place she could bear to walk through.

Not after what she had done.

She found herself stumbling down the path, and opened the doors with her last ounce of strength.

"Welcome to the shop," someone said, but Saya Kisaragi had already fallen.

-C

They were supposed to have come home together.

They were supposed to have defeated Fumito.

Saya was supposed to come back to them.

Mogari-san was supposed to have been waiting for them at the mansion.

They were supposed to have this big party. Everyone was supposed to celebrate. Everyone was supposed to get drunk, even just a little.

They were supposed to be happy.

But Saya never came home. And what waited for them was a dark and sad home and no Mogari-san to congratulate them. Yanagi-san said he hadn't come back. Tsuki-chan hugged everyone.

The news reports the next day hit everyone like a ton of bricks: Kuroto Mogari died in an area on a private landmass in Tokyo's bay. So did Fumito Nanahara. Saya was supposed to be there. Saya was supposed to be happy.

They wondered if she was happy now.

SIRRUT knew the gist of it, but they didn't know how Mogari-san made it to Tower headquarters without them knowing, and whether or not Saya was coming back.

-C

She woke up to a dog licking her face.

Saya picked up the dog and set it on the mattress. This dog was the shop owner's, no doubt about it. She stared. The dog jumped off the mattress and padded to the door.

Saya got off the bed. Her sword sat at the other end of it. She picked it up by the scabbard and saw how it complemented her outfit: a red-and-black kimono, with a dragon pattern swirling around her. Perhaps someone dressed her while she was out. Not that she cared nowadays.

Behind the folds of her garb, she found that the smaller wounds from her previous battle had disappeared; the larger ones, the more fatal ones that would have killed a normal human were still healing slowly. Saya touched her abdomen, covered in a thick obi. She was starving.

The dog waited for her to slide the partition open, and led her to where the shopkeeper was taking his meals.

-C

"You're finally awake."

Saya paused at the entrance into the dining room. The dog leaped into the shop owner's arms.

"Would you care to join us?"

The shop owner wore garb that contrasted her outfit. Red and black for her, blue and white for him. The embroidery was a mirror image of each other.

Saya's eyes shifted to the other occupants of the table. One was a lean man, looking to be in his early twenties. The other was a round black rabbit-like creature drinking from a saké cup. Saya decided not to question anything. It saved her multiple times in the past year; it was most likely going to save her now.

"No. What I want is―"

"I know you're hungry, Saya." The shop owner's eyes gleamed. Saya did not protest when he brought out a pot and set it on the table. She also did not protest when she drank seven cups worth of Old Ones blood.

-C

"I came back to pay for the sword."

The shop owner poured her a glass of water which she did not take. The young man had left some time ago; the black rabbit trailed after him. It was just her and the shop owner now.

"How much? Name your price."

The shop owner was silent for a while. Then he looked up at her.

"Are you so willing to pay in your condition?" he asked.

"Yes."

"The price of the sword... is the upholding of a red shield."

-C

"You're leaving?"

Saya looked at the shopkeeper in the doorway.

"Yes."

"So soon?"

"I have nothing else to return to." Saya turned back to watch the moon.

It was almost four in the morning. At this time, it was neither too early, nor was it too late; the new midnight. Saya could walk through the almost-empty streets without standing out.

But she wouldn't walk.

Saya adjusted the bag that the shopkeeper gave her. It had Old Ones blood, some lunchboxes, and some spare clothes. He insisted on her bringing it along.

"Thank you. For everything."

Kimihiro Watanuki watched her disappear into the night.

-C

"According to eyewitnesses and some grainy cellphone images, it was not a gas explosion that reduced the facility to ruin. It was a large monster. But I know what it was: an Old One. A monster capable of killing off humans in a matter of seconds." A deep breath. "I have been following some of these monsters. Sometimes I only see the wakes of their carnage, or at least what's left of it. I rarely catch a glimpse of these Old Ones, and up until the deaths of Fumito Nanahara and Kuroto Mogari they have been expertly covered up.

"Not anymore. Attacks are happening all over the world, accounts of tangling with the monsters are being posted on the web, videos and reports in a thousand different languages. But it's not an epidemic, strangely. Seeing as how there are thirteen billion people in the world and counting, it shouldn't be. Old Ones feast on human blood most of the time. We should be seeing some news flashes of these things wreaking havoc and laying waste to their surroundings.

"But we aren't."

-C

Joel watched the news over a five-star breakfast and a cup of coffee.

As a boy he had learned to speak, read and write Japanese, along with a host of other prominent languages. It was a prerequisite for him. A Goldschmidt had to have expertise in every aspect of life.

The scions of two of Japan's most important families had died on the same night; the site of their deaths were wrecked like a giant would have against paper mache. Following this the Youth Ordinance Bill had been declared null and void. A speech about being honest with adults and youth alike was made by the new Prime Minister. He did not care for trivial details. Joel brought out his phone.

"David."

"_I know. I'm on my way."_

Trust David to be on top of things. Joel stared at his meal and resumed eating rather slowly, thinking. It meant something. This occurrence meant something, and Joel Goldschmidt had a feeling that this had something to do with his..._ extraordinary_ line of work.

-C

_Searching_

_Long black hair_

_Beautiful woman with big eyes_

_Likely carrying a long thing in her hand_

_Name _

_Saya_

-C

Saya was hungry, crabby, and not at all pleased with the location she managed to land herself in.

The corpses were disposed of, clearly. She would have returned to the pigsty of all pigsties otherwise. Ukishima Town was nonexistent. Where there used to be a shrine, there was only the faint trace of crushed rubble. Where there was a school, there was only trees and grass and plants that looked suspiciously like they'd been planted the day before.

Something... Some_one_... had been here, and whoever it was, had either a lot of time on his hands or a lot of people at his disposal. Saya put her money on the latter. Two to three years wasn't enough to hide bodies, clean up blood and bring a husk of a town to the ground.

Even if the person _was _that skilled.

Saya found nothing of note. There were no buildings, no trace of life, nothing that indicated there might be someone nearby. She had previously scouted the perimeter; she found nothing. She saw no blood on the trees, no animals. Nothing.

It was disconcerting.

She must have missed something.

-C

Saya expanded her range. She covered twice as much ground now, at the expense of her time. But her backpack was hidden carefully in the highest reaches of the tallest tree in the old town. That would keep most people from finding her belongings, or at least hinder them, if they were anything like her.

She conserved energy by walking. There were very few things of note yet again; most were the fallen leaves and scraps of dirty plastic hidden under shrubs and inside tree hollows.

Someone had been here. But who? Maybe... Fumito? She frowned on that. She didn't know anyone else. Maybe Kuroto.

... Or not.

Who?

"_RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA__―__"_

Saya ran after the first noise ever since morning.

-C

Karl Fei-Ong was a strange man. He was very flippant towards the ones who held his reins, but he got the job done in record time. The only person he was on best terms with was Solomon Goldsmith. And when faced with a pretty woman, he would pluck the nearest Old Ones' limb and offer it to her.

That was exactly what happened to Saya.

Karl looked expectantly at her, a fresh Old One's limb in his bloody hand. She blinked confusedly for a while.

"For you," he said, after a long awkward silence. The blood from the amputated limb was dripping onto the ground.

Saya was very surprised. This was the first time she'd been subjected to this kind of treatment. She'd seen him kill the monster, seen him look at her from the corner of his eye, seen him rip the arm out of its socket. Why was she hesitating?

Because the man's gaze was strange.

He looked like he'd had one too many cups of coffee. And he _felt_ strange―neither human nor Old One. Saya could tell. She couldn't muster the will to run him through with her sword. And no human could even hope to put a dent in an Old One with their bare hands alone.

She couldn't trust him.

"What are you?"

He frowned. "I'm Karl."

"No, _what_ are you? Are you an Old One? You can't be human."

He blinked. He looked at his free hand. His nails were curved, like those of a normal human's. Saya could have sworn that they were sharp as needles when he amputated the limb. Karl turned his hand over and over. "I don't know."

Saya wanted to slap herself.

"What do you mean?"

"I could care less about what I am. I can eat them," he pointed to the dead monster behind him, "I can eat real food. I look like a human. I can kill anyone I want if I really wanted to. I could care less," he explained. He looked at the limb and offered it to her again. When he saw she wouldn't be taking it anytime soon, he dug his teeth into it.

Razor-sharp teeth.

Saya drew her sword and leveled it at Karl's throat in one fluid motion.

It hovered there for a full minute.

Karl chuckled through a mouthful of blood. "Can't do it?"

Saya gritted her teeth.

Karl callously tossed the limb over his shoulder. "You must be _that_ kind of Old One."

"_What_ kind of Old One?"

"Nothing," he singsonged. "Bye," he said, and then he was gone.

Saya spent the next two hours searching for him. In the end, she spent the night under the tree she remembered to have eaten under as a student of Sanbara High.

Cold and all alone.

Just like before.

-C

"Someone's been taking down the information about Old Ones. About thirty percent of all the posts are gone. Luckily I managed to save some of the more important bits. Most of them are already printed, or saved in a flash drive, or still in one of my laptop's archives.

"Very soon all of the things on the internet pertaining to Old Ones will be gone. I am salvaging as much as I can."

The recording is silent for a few moments. "And I bet I know who exactly is taking them down."

-C

Somewhere in a secret underground base, a young man screeched into an intercom, which had been accidentally connected to the whole of the base.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, YOU LOST KARL?"

-C

Joel Goldschmidt was knee-deep in intel filched from a freelance reporter by the name of Akihiro Okamura. Combined with the scraps of information left over from the Air Base commotion some few years back, he had a clue as to what had happened. Joel had seen the data from Itsuki Tomofusa's files, which had been sent some time after he died.

_Truly a wonder with technology,_ thought the young Goldschmidt. The files captured almost everything, even after his death. Joel himself made sure that Tomofusa had a send-off on par with a respected Red Shield agent.

It had been three years since Tomofusa had given the data. It had been two years since the deaths of Fumito Nanahara, former Chairman of Seventh Heaven and former head of Tower, and Kuto Mogari, head of Sysnet―_that_ had rocked the whole of the capital. Both were powerful men in their own right, and suspected to have been keeping secrets.

The name of one of those secrets was presumed to be Saya.

_...In addition, there has been a post on message boards asking for the whereabouts of a woman strikingly similar to the woman sighted in certain parts of the country,_ read the intel. _The name given on the post was 'Saya'. We assume that 'Saya' and the woman seen in the pictures of attacking monsters are the same person..._

Joel Goldschmidt leaned back into the car seat. He'd read this at least nine times since he'd gotten it. His eyes hurt.

"You need to see this." David, who sat across him in the cab of their modest limousine, held out a tablet.

"David, I've been at this since morning. I don't think―"

"You need to see this."

Joel never disobeyed David at a time like this. Joel scanned the pictures on the screen. The ones on the sidebars were dark and grainy, but the picture taking up most of the space showed a pale-faced brunette holding something that looked like a walking stick.

Joel gulped. "She's real."

David nodded.

-C

"I trust you not to―in very, _very _simple terms―" David looked pointedly at Karl at this, "―fuck this up."

Nathan Mahler tapped his fan on his palm. "Quite the language, David. I'll be sure not to, if it is so important."

David nodded absently.

"Our target is this woman." David hands the tablet to the nearest special operative at his side, which was Solomon Goldsmith. The picture was of a young woman walking across an intersection. As David went on about the mission, Karl made his way to Solomon's chair.

He grinned.

-C

Joel scrolled down some information contained in the smartphone in his hand. He stopped at a two-year-old post, one that most likely held the key all the answers to their questions. He'd gone over this a thousand times since its appearance.

The minibar built into one side of the limo was laden with wine bottles and soda cans and drinking glasses of all shapes and sizes. Solomon Goldsmith swirled the red wine in his glass.

... Or at least it _looked_ like red wine.

"Well?"

"Is everyone in place?"

"Yes."

"Good." Joel stopped himself from biting his index finger, a particular habit he'd never been able tolet go of. "You get in place too, Solomon. We'll be waiting for you here."

Solomon nodded, set down the wine glass full of blood, and opened the car door.

Red Shield had been able to cordon off a small part of Tokyo. All civilians were evacuated (Joel let the ones in charge think up a valid reason for it), their special operatives were scattered at strategic points, and all they had to do was find their prey.

And against his better judgment, Karl was made the bait.

He hoped this would work.

-C

"You're not _just_ any kind of Old One."

Saya froze, and turned around slowly as Karl continued.

"Unlike the rest of us, you don't harm humans. You are able to consume normal food, but you have a palate for Old Ones blood. Unlike the rest of us."

Karl was perched on an old building, meters above Saya's head. He wasn't there seconds ago. Saya waited for more.

"You're a Empress."

-C

"I don't believe it."

Joel's eyes were glued to the news feed in front of him. It was her. It was really her, after years of dead ends. Of a thousand faces in black. Of a million drops of blood.

He wanted to verify this.

Joel fumbled for the microphone connected to his headset. "Karl? Karl, get in there. I want to see her."

-C

Saya backed up two steps. Her grip on the sword was firm. Karl was inching closer and closer. Under normal circumstances, Saya would be holding her ground, but she was reeling from the information.

"Empress."

Karl hummed in agreement.

Saya opened her mouth to ask where exactly the information from.

"―Saya?"

Karl was suddenly in her face. His lips breathed in freezing air and breathed out roadkill and stale blood. Saya did not mind. She tasted like that once. What was bothering her was the fact that he was too close.

Close enough for a kiss.

"How do you know my name," she choked out.

"_...too close, Karl!..."_

Saya snapped out of her trance. "What do you want?" she asked, voice cold and steely. Just like before.

"Oh, nothing. Just be a good girl and stay here."

Saya Kisaragi did not do "stay here". And she did not do "good girl".

Saya feinted a right, then went left, tearing through the alley. She stepped over an Old One (that makes two times they met during hunting), weaved through the garbage piles scattered on the ground, and almost made it out.

_Why didn't he__―_

Saya risked a glance to see that Karl was a certain distance from her. Her eyesight had always been sharper than most people, so she could still make out some detail of his silhouette.

He wasn't even moving.

He was leaning against the wall, calm as he could be. He was watching her. He was smirking, moreso than he did before.

He didn't even look like he had any intention of attacking.

It looked like he was expecting her to walk straight into a―

_Clickclickclickclickclickclick._

"FREEZE!"

Saya wanted to kill him now.

"_Saya Kisaragi."_

Saya looked at a young man holding a megaphone.

"_Please do not be alarmed. We will put down our guns if you put down any weapons you have. I repeat: please do not be alarmed. Put down your weapons."_

Saya wondered for a brief second if they knew that she wouldn't be able to harm a single human. She decided to put that thought in the back of her head and do what they asked her to. They hadn't attacked her _yet_.

Saya set down her sword.

"_Good. Now if you could just step a little closer, please."_

Saya did as instructed. The young man holding the megaphone looked younger than she had thought him to be. He looked _younger _than her. Her brows creased for a brief second.

"My name is Joel." The young man held out a hand. "Joel Goldschmidt, leader of Red Shield, nice to meet you..."

Saya only stared at Joel's hand. After a few moments of tense silence, he withdrew it. He coughed into it.

"Shall we... talk about this?... In private?"

* * *

**Note:** Reviews help me out of limbo faster. Please leave some, I love hearing from you.


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